t the matches he let the
boy go, and ran down the steps and through the open door into the crypt,
calling out as he came:

'Stephen! Stephen dear, where are you? It is I--Harold!' There was no
response; his heart seemed to grow cold and his knees to weaken. The
match spluttered and flashed, and in the momentary glare he saw across
the vault, which was not a large place, a white mass on the ground. He
had to go carefully, lest the match should be blown out by the wind of
his passage; but on coming close he saw that it was Stephen lying
senseless in front of a great coffin which rested on a built-out pile of
masonry. Then the match went out. In the flare of the next one he lit
he saw a piece of candle lying on top of the coffin. He seized and lit
it. He was able to think coolly despite his agitation, and knew that
light was the first necessity. The bruised wick was slow to catch; he
had to light another match, his last one, before it flamed. The couple
of seconds that the light went down till the grease melted and the flame
leaped again seemed of considerable length. When the lit candle was
placed steadily on top of the coffin, and a light, dim, though strong
enough to see with, spread around, he stooped and lifted Stephen in his
arms. She was quite senseless, and so limp that a great fear came upon
him that she might be dead. He did not waste time, but carried her
across the vault where the door to the church steps stood out sharp
against the darkness, and bore her up into the church. Holding her in
one arm, with the other hand he dragged some long cushions from one of
the pews and spread them on the floor; on these he laid her. His heart
was smitten with love and pity as he looked. She was so helpless; so
pitifully helpless! Her arms and legs were doubled up as though broken,
disjointed; the white frock was smeared with patches of thick dust.
Instinctively he stooped and pulled the frock down and straightened out
the arms and feet. He knelt beside her, and felt if her heart was still
beating, a great fear over him, a sick apprehension. A gush of thankful
prayer came from his heart. Thank God! she was alive; he could feel her
heart beat, though faintly underneath his hand. He started to his feet
and ran towards the door, seizing his hat, which lay on a seat. He
wanted it to bring back some water. As he passed out of the door he saw
Leonard a little distance off, but took no notice of him. He ran t